


Messing With The Beat Of My Heart

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Avoiding Feelings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Types of love, confessions of feelings, mentions of lots of Queen songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 02:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: For centuries, Aziraphale and Crowley have been dancing around the issue that’s right in front of them.





	Messing With The Beat Of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been listening to pretty much nothing but queen for the last week since I saw the movie bohemian rhapsody and several of my favs are mentioned in this

_Ooh, you're a cool cat_

_Coming on strong with all the chit chat_

“Erm, Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale began. 

Crowley tapped out the beat of the song on his steering wheel. They were out for a drive in the Bentley, heading back from the Ritz, and once again, the only music Crowley had was Queen. “Yes?”

“Can’t we listen to something other than Queen’s greatest hits? I mean, it’s not that I don’t like Freddie Mercury, but we just listen to it all the time.”

“I don’t have any other tapes. Nothing other than Queen, anyway. And everything else just seems to turn into Queen when I put it into the stereo.” 

Aziraphale opened up the glove box and poured through the tapes. “My, you weren’t kidding. Then can’t we just listen to the radio?”

“Don’t have an antenna. It’s Queen, or silence.” 

Reaching over, Aziraphale squinted at the buttons before finally finding the one to turn the stereo off. They sat in silence for a moment, before Crowley turned the stereo back on. 

“I don’t like silence much.” He said, his eyes still on the road. 

“Fine, then I’ll try a different cassette.” Aziraphale ejected the one currently in the stereo and replaced it with another. 

_I'm in love with my car, in love with my car_

_The machine of a dream_

Aziraphale coughed. “I don’t quite remember this one.”

“Not one of their more well known tracks, I’ll tell you that.” 

“It’s bizarre. I mean really, ‘When my hand’s on your grease gun.’ What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Some kind of thinly veiled innuendo of some sort, I think.” 

Aziraphale ejected the tape and once more fished another out of the glove box. Crowley prayed- well, hoped, since demons really didn’t pray- that the angel would just make up his mind and settle on one. 

_I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things_

_We can do the tango, just for two_

“I don’t mind this one.” 

“Oh, thank… someone.” 

Listening to the lyrics of the song with Aziraphale in the car almost embarrassed Crowley, though he couldn’t figure out why. Probably because the two of them did many of the same things listed in the song. Dining at the Ritz, dancing, Crowley picking up the tab as Aziraphale frequently forgot to bring money. Alright, not exactly like the song. But enough like the song that Crowley could notice the similarities. And that a lot of Queen songs made Crowley think about their relationship.

He thought about Aziraphale more often than he probably should have. Sure, it was natural for a demon to want to ponder the next time he can thwart his angelic rival, but not for the demon to think about him _that_ much. And it was especially not normal for the demon to think at length about how much he’d like to ram Aziraphale into a wall and kiss him as hard as he could. 

“Why don’t you get one of those…” Aziraphale’s voice shook Crowley out of his thoughts, “what’s it called. An aux cord. You have a cell phone, don’t you?”

“The stereo’s far too old for something like that. It doesn’t even have a CD player.”

“Couldn’t you just miracle up a spot for an aux cord?”

“But I don’t want to mess with my baby.” Crowley patted the car’s dashboard. “Especially not after nearly losing it driving through that wall of hellfire. The Bentley stays the way it is. I mean, imagine if I had suggested to you to turn your whole shop into an ebook.”

Aziraphale looked horrified at the thought. “I see your point.” 

“Which, by the way-”

“My dear, don’t even think about getting me an Amazon Kindle. I don’t want anything to do with that wretched company.”

Crowley chuckled. “Wasn’t planning on it, but now you’ve given me an idea for your next Christmas present.” 

“Please, just get me a sweater or socks or something. Something I won’t feel guilty about owning.”

“What about one of those sweaters with lights and bells that plays music when you press a button?”

“I meant a normal sweater, with no added effects. Something brown, maybe, or argyle.” 

“Angel, nobody wears argyle anymore. Nobody should have worn argyle in the first place.” Admittedly the pattern did look like it had been specifically designed with the angel in mind, though Crowley would never tell him that. 

Aziraphale looked slightly offended. “I like argyle.”

“I know you do.” 

They had arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

“I suppose I’ll see you around, then.” Aziraphale said, seemingly hesitant to get out of the car. “Unless you’d like to join me for drinks, or something.”

Part of Crowley wanted to accept his offer. But Crowley also knew that when he got drunk, his tongue tended to be a little bit looser. And he definitely didn’t need to accidentally let spill to the angel that he was in love with him, especially when he had no idea if his feelings were reciprocated. Chances were, they were not. Aziraphale, being an angel, loved all beings with an angelic, godly love, and simply by existing Crowley fell under that angelic love. However, that angelic love is far different from the love Crowley was feeling. Romantic love. Sexual love. The kind of love that kept one up at night, thinking about the other person. Missing them, even when they were away for only a minute.

So no, Crowley could not come in for drinks. “Sorry, angel, I’ve got some things I have to take care of.”

Aziraphale looked disappointed. “Oh. You’re sure they can’t be put off until tomorrow? I’ve got an excellent spiced wine from a local brewery that I’m sure you’d like.”

“You’ll have to enjoy it without me, I’m afraid.” 

For a moment, Crowley wondered if they were about to kiss. It wasn’t a particularly large car, mind you, and he couldn’t help but lock his eyes on Aziraphale’s lips. After a moment of tension so thick it could’ve been cut with a steak knife, Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

“Well, I ought to be going, then.” He said, patting Crowley’s arm. “Thanks for picking up the tab.”

“Of course, angel.” Crowley wanted to say something else. Should’ve said something else. Anything. Instead, he sat in silence as Aziraphale exited the car. Crowley waited until the angel was inside of his bookshop before starting the car again, cursing himself the whole way home. 

The next morning, Crowley awoke groggily. He hadn’t gotten much sleep. Even though he didn’t really need sleep, a bad night’s sleep always left him groggy, sometimes even with a headache. It was such a bloody _human_ trait he had adopted, but he valued his sleep. 

He also knew that Aziraphale barely slept at all, unless he was sleeping off a rather bad night of drinking or simply wanted to get some shuteye, which wasn’t often. This explained the several phone calls waiting for him on his answering machine when he finally rolled out of bed. 

“Hello, Crowley, it’s me, Aziraphale.” Aziraphale’s voice rang out from the answering machine, as if Crowley couldn’t instantly recognize that voice after six thousand years. “You seemed a bit weird when you drove off yesterday, weird in a different way from how you normally are.” Crowley only felt slightly offended. “Anyway, I wanted to know if you wanted to go for a walk by the duck pond. Just give me a ring when you can.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. Of course Aziraphale would want to go for a walk at 2 in the morning, or whenever he had sent the message. He clicked the button on the machine, moving onto the next message. 

“Hello, Crowley, it’s Aziraphale again.”

“Yes, I kind of figured that.” Crowley replied to the machine. 

“It only just now occurred to me that you have a tendency to sleep, which naturally explains why I’m now talking to your answering machine. I’d still like to walk by the duck pond, though. Call me when you can.”

Crowley clicked onto the next message. 

“Hi, Crowley. It’s me again.” Aziraphale’s voice was slightly slurred, as if the angel had been doing some drinking. “I know you’re still probably busy sleeping. I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to let you know that I love you very much, even if you are a demon. You’re still my best friend. My only friend, really. Go- goodness, since when have I become a sappy drunk? I’d still like to see you. I’d really like to see you, actually. I love you. Give me a ring.”

Crowley felt himself go pink. He knew that the love Aziraphale was talking about was just that overarching, heavenly love. It had to be. Nonetheless, it still made his heart race, at any kind of hint that Aziraphale might’ve harbored feelings for him. 

There was still one message on the machine. 

“Hello, Crowley.” This time, Aziraphale sounded decidedly more sober, and didn’t even introduce himself. “Listen, I got a bit tipsy last night, so I’d like to apologize for anything I might’ve said that was embarrassing, rude, or otherwise. I can understand if you don’t want to call me after that because of whatever it was I said.” There was a brief pause. “It’s Aziraphale, by the way.”

Crowley couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a good sign that Aziraphale seemed to deeply regret everything on the answering machine, but the fact that the angel felt the need to clarify who it was was just so like him. Aziraphale was, if nothing else, a creature of habit. 

Picking up the receiver, Crowley hit the speed dial button. Well, the second speed dial. The first was for a pizza place down the street. 

“Hello?” Aziraphale’s voice spoke through the receiver.

“Hiya, angel.” Crowley didn’t feel the need to introduce himself. “I got your four messages.”

A muffled groan came from Aziraphale. He must’ve held the phone away from his face to muffle the reaction. “Please tell me you deleted them.”

“Not without listening to them first.” He could only imagine the look of mortification on the angel’s face. “Still up for going to the duck pond?”

“Uh, yes, I suppose. You’re not mad at anything I said?”

“Why should I be mad? You said nothing out of the ordinary.” Well, that was a bit of a lie. 

“You’re sure? I could’ve sworn-”

“Don’t worry about it, angel. I’ll see you soon.” 

He hung up the phone quickly, so Aziraphale didn’t have time to change his mind. Miracling on an expensive-looking outfit, Crowley strolled out the door. His place of living was a bit closer to the pond than Aziraphale’s, so he got there before the angel.

After a couple of minutes had passed, Aziraphale still hadn’t shown up. This instantly made Crowley wonder exactly what was keeping him. Maybe Aziraphale had changed his mind. Maybe he had gotten discorporated. Maybe he decided to leave the country and move somewhere far away. 

Those thoughts were dashed when he saw the angel making his way along the path, looking a bit winded. Aziraphale hadn’t been in the best shape of his life in this form, but it suited him. He looked exactly like the type of person to be running an antique bookstore. And Crowley loved every bit of him. 

“Sorry I’m late. That traffic light just never seems to be accomodating for pedestrians. I should put a word in with- you don’t care.” Aziraphale rambled, out of breath. 

Crowley did care. Very much so. Just not on the matter of traffic lights. “No matter. You’re here now.” Crowley conjured up a bag of peas, and began throwing them for the ducks. “Have a fun night last night?”

“Hardly. Remind me to check the alcohol content of liquor the next time I decide to drink alone. And now I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“You couldn’t just miracle that away?”

“No. I deserve it. Really, I can’t believe I did that.”

“What, drunk calling me?” 

“Yes.” 

Crowley held out the bag of peas. Aziraphale grabbed a handful, popping one in his mouth before throwing the rest for the birds. “Angel, really, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve done far stupider things while drunk, let me tell you.”

“You’re sure I didn’t say anything wrong? Tell me, what did I say?”

Crowley felt himself blushing again, almost against his will, and he turned towards the ducks in the hopes that Aziraphale wouldn’t see it. “You said that I was your best friend, which doesn’t surprise me. And you did say that you loved me, which I wasn’t surprised about either.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed intensely. “What do you mean, you weren’t surprised?”

“Well, you’ve got that angelic love for all beings, right? I assume I fall under that, or something adjacent. Even if I am a demon.”

The angel was now a shade of pink rivaling Crowley’s own. “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

“I must admit, it was rather sweet, as far as drunken ramblings go. Mostly coherent too, which tops most of my own.” 

“Mhm.” Aziraphale, apparently lost in thought, had his eyes locked on the duck pond. 

“Really, angel, you shouldn’t be so worried about it. I don’t mind. In fact, I’m flattered.”

“Flattered is a word posh people use when they’re about to let someone down.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Don’t quote Downton Abbey at me. You of all people should know I’d recognize the reference. We watched it together on your couch. Plus, why wouldn’t I be flattered, to have overarching angelic love aimed at me?”

“You’re a demon. Love… it doesn’t mean as much to you.”

Frowning, Crowley turned to the angel. “Love means a lot to me. What demons have you been talking to that made you think that?”

“None, but…” Sighing deeply, Aziraphale made a point of avoiding Crowley’s eyes. “I don’t know. We’re different, you and I.”

“Aziraphale, just because we’re different doesn’t mean I can’t feel love. I feel it just as much as you do, though admittedly not in the same worldwide sort of sense. I just feel it more on a person to person basis.” Crowley knew he was coming dangerously close to crossing a line. “Heck, I love you.” 

Instantly, he worried if it had been the wrong thing to say. Aziraphale returned his gaze to the ducks, wearing an expression like he had just gotten punched in the head. “I know you do, as a friend. I’ve always been able to feel some sort of love emanating from you. Well, for centuries, anyway.” 

Either the angel was thick, or Crowley had said it in the wrong way. “That’s not what I mean, angel.”

“I should probably get back to the shop. I don’t want to have anyone sneaking in there while I’m away.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Aziraphale, don’t go.” He realized he needed some excuse to say that. “We haven’t finished feeding the ducks.”

“You finish. I’ve got to go.” 

Watching the disappearing form of the angel down the path left a gaping hole in Crowley’s heart. He should’ve gone after him. Should’ve said something. But once again, he was too much of a coward to let his true feelings be known. 

Then again, Aziraphale was the one who had left. Perhaps Aziraphale didn’t feel the same, which was why he had elected to disappear. Or maybe Crowley had said something to offend him. Either way, Aziraphale was gone, leaving Crowley with a soggy bag of peas and a pang of regret in his stomach.

\-------------------

They met again not long after, for another lunch at the Ritz. The whole ride there, something weighed between them, something neither of them chose to speak about, while Freddie Mercury sang mournfully in the background. 

_Love of my life, you've hurt me_

_You've broken my heart, and now you leave me_

_Love of my life, can't you see?_

_Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me_

_Because you don't know what it means to me_

Lunch was spent in relative silence, with only a few interjections about the food, or how the weather had been the last couple of days. Finally, while they were sipping champagne over dessert, Crowley realized he couldn’t let this continue. 

“Alright, angel, what was it?”

Aziraphale frowned. “What was what?”

“Back at the duck pond, what did I say that made you want to leave? Clearly, it must’ve been something I said, else you wouldn’t’ve left.” 

“You didn’t say anything wrong. I just had to get back to the bookshop.”

Without even thinking, Crowley took one of Aziraphale’s hands into his own. “You are a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying, it…” Aziraphale sighed. “I can’t keep this up. It’s because of what I said over the phone. How I said I loved you. And you took that to mean love in the more general sense of the term.”

“Well, wasn’t it supposed to be that kind of love?” 

“No, Crowley.” That was odd. Aziraphale never used Crowley’s real name. It was usually one of several carefully selected pet names. “I meant that in the, as you put it, person to person sort of love.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re in love with me?”

“You don’t need to rub it in. And I can understand if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“Hold on. I literally told you face to face the other day that I love you, and you still don’t think I’d be comfortable with you being in love with me?” Crowley sat back in his chair. “Blimey, and I thought I would be the one on the other side of this awkward conversation.”

“But you… you’re a demon. You can’t love in that way, can you?”

“I don’t know what else I could possibly be feeling other than that.” His voice fell into a whisper as Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s ear. “Tell me, does friendship love normally involve wanting to pin someone over a desk?”

“Not usually, no.” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley could feel the angel’s pulse quicken in his hand. 

Crowley slid his free hand onto Aziraphale’s thigh, and could hear his breath catch in his throat. “Then what do you say we get out of here?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea. Though I’ll still need you to pick up the tab.”

\-----------------

Crowley awoke to the sound of someone trying and failing to be quiet. There was a definite absence of the warm body next to him that had been there just a few hours ago, and Crowley opened his eyes to witness the angel getting dressed. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley muttered, only half-awake. “What’re you doing?”

“Um, I. Well, I was going.”

“Going? Going where?”

“Back to my bookshop.”

Sitting up, Crowley ran a hand through his hair in a vain effort to straighten it out. “Why?”

“Well, I sort of doubted you wanted me here in the morning.”

Crowley frowned. “Why wouldn’t I want you here? Of course I want you here, angel.”

“I was under the impression, after the events of last night, you were looking for a purely sexual relationship. And as enjoyable as it was, I don’t… I don’t want that.”

“Aziraphale. I love you. Not just because you’re an excellent shag. I could get that anywhere. I love you, because of you. I want you to be here in the morning, when your hair is still a little messy, and curl against your side. I’d take just being near you, if that’s what you wanted. We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. But I need you to know that I really and truly do love you.”

There was still a look of skepticism on Aziraphale’s face. 

“Please come back to bed.”

“Ok.” 

Aziraphale crawled back into bed beside Crowley. Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, burying his nose deep into the crook of his neck. Aziraphale had such a unique scent. Dusty, from being in that damned bookshop for so long, but a charming sort of dusty, mixed with the unmistakable scent of tea and scones. It took a moment for Aziraphale to relax into Crowley’s embrace. 

“I love you.” Crowley muttered. “Very much so.”

“I love you too, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t expect it to get as like, semi-angsty as it did, since I never write angst, but it just ended up that way  
> Songs quoted (all by Queen):  
> Cool Cat (title also inspired by this one)  
> I’m in Love with my Car  
> Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy  
> Love Of My Life


End file.
